


Thunderstorm

by fortytworedvines



Category: The Durrells (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, any excuse to get their clothes off them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-27 02:01:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17757674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortytworedvines/pseuds/fortytworedvines
Summary: Louisa and Spiro are caught in a thunderstorm.





	Thunderstorm

Louisa wandered slowly up the dusty road, carrying a basket of provisions that she’d just picked up from the market in town. She could have taken Gerry’s donkey – he was off with Theo for the weekend, exploring the other end of the island – but for some reason it would never do as she wanted it to. She called it a recalcitrant animal, and Gerry laughed at her.

At the bend in the road she paused to wipe the sweat from her forehead and stare out at the shimmering blue sea. She would never tire of this view.

She heard the faint drone of a car motor growing louder and smiled to herself. A few minutes later Spiro drew up next to her with a honk of his horn.  
“Mrs Durrells,” he called, “Come, I will give you a lift home.”

She smiled fondly, “Thank you Spiro, but the walk will do me good, honestly.”

He frowned and shook his head. “Have you not seen?” He gestured northwards, “There will be a storm soon.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t seen the dark clouds massing behind the hills. “Well, thank you.”

She clambered into his car and stowed her basket carefully at her feet.

“No children today?” Spiro asked curiously.

She laughed, “I have a blissful weekend to myself. Gerry is off with Theo and the older three have gone over to the mainland shopping.”

“Together?” Incredulity coloured his voice.

“Well, not for the same things. Clothes, a new gun and replacement bits for a typewriter.” She clutched at her hat as the wind whipped it suddenly.

“I hope we will make it to your house in time,” Spiro said, worriedly. “It’s going to be a bad storm.”

He hoped in vain; the rain started while they were only half way back.

Louisa laughed and tipped her head to the sky, welcoming the pelting drops that were oddly warm. Spiro hunched over his steering wheel and urged the car along. Rain dripped from his cap and along his nose. He glanced at Louisa. “You are very happy.”

“It’s refreshing. A nice change.”

By the time they arrived at the villa they were both soaked through. Louisa struggled out of the car, damp skirt hampering her movements. “Thank you for picking me up. I’d have been a drowned rat walking back in that.”

Spiro eyed her and smiled wryly. “I think you are a drowned rat now.”

“More drowned?” she offered. “Can you be different degrees of drowned?” She waited by the car for a moment but Spiro wasn’t moving. “You have to come in,” she said. He shook his head, and then they both jumped as a peal of thunder crashed overhead. “I insist!” she shouted, “You can’t drive back in this!”

Spiro stared at her for a moment and then nodded. “I’ll come in.”

 

Louisa led the way into the house, which seemed dark and gloomy. “I’ll go and get some towels,” she said with a shiver, and pushed Spiro into the living room. Hurrying upstairs, she grabbed towels, her dressing gown and Larry’s. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, after all.

She arrived back downstairs to find Spiro kneeling by the fireplace, coaxing a small flame into life.

“Good idea, thank you.”

He stood awkwardly. Louisa passed him a towel. “Thank you,” he said, clutching it to him.

“We need to get out of our clothes before catch our deaths of cold. You can have Larry’s dressing gown.” She threw it over the nearest sofa. Spiro looked at it, then back to her, and they laughed.

“Leslie doesn’t actually own one,” Louisa said, “And Gerry’s would be much too small.”

“Do you have one?”

Louisa twirled it elegantly and he smiled. “Very nice.”

They stared at each other for a moment more and Louisa flushed, “Right, I’ll just… be back in a moment.” She hurried to the kitchen to shed her own clothes, which were so damp that she had to peel them from her body. She squeezed the excess water carefully from her skirt into the sink, but her blouse wouldn’t stand that sort of treatment. Nor would her stockings. They’d have to dry in front of the fire. She towelled herself quickly dry and pulled on her dressing gown. She shivered; the chill that had set in by the end of the drive lingered.

She walked noisily back to the living room, giving Spiro plenty of notice of her arrival. He was standing by the fire, Larry’s dressing gown hanging oddly from his shoulders, rubbing his hair with his towel.

Louisa dragged the fire guard out of the corner and draped her clothes over it. She bent to pick up Spiro’s but he flushed. “Let me.”

Louisa sat herself on the sofa, legs pulled underneath her, as he hung his clothes out. It all felt very domestic.

“Come here,” she said as he finished, “Let me dry your hair.”

He sat tensely beside her, pulling the dressing gown around him so that it covered as much of him as possible, and passed her his towel. Louisa knelt behind him, began to rub his hair thoroughly. As she rubbed, he relaxed; his shoulders softened and he slumped back towards her. Louisa was suddenly very aware of their proximity, a mere breath of space separating their bodies.

“This is very nice,” he murmured.

Louisa swallowed, “Yes.” She tried to hold herself away from him but was drawn inexorably in, until her chest brushed briefly against his back. She closed her eyes, willing herself not fall further.

“Now, I dry yours,” Spiro offered as the last drop of dampness vanished from his hair.

“Oh!”

He twisted to face her, “You are surprised?” he asked, scanning her face.

“It’s just… nobody offers to do things like that for me,” she whispered, blinking back the wetness in her eyes.

“Well, I am here. And I offer.”

“Thank you.” She passed him her towel and as he took it their fingers grazed. She blushed.

“Turn around,” Spiro prompted gently.

She shuddered as soft hands found her hair, tipped her head back as Spiro worked slowly and carefully. She was always aware of him, had always been able to find his eyes across a room; from the moment they had met there was an unacknowledged undercurrent to their friendship. Now he gathered her hair at the nape of her neck, winding the towel around it, and she sighed.

“All done,” he said, too soon. She shivered as he moved away. “You are still cold?”

“A bit,” she acknowledged.

He hesitated, then lifted an arm. “Come here,” he said, and put an arm round her as she moved closer.

Cuddled against his chest, only the thinness of the dressing gowns between them, she could feel his heart thrumming. For a moment neither spoke. The quiet in the house was so unusual that Louisa laughed.

“Hmm?”

“Just listen to that silence,” Louisa said.

“It is not silent. Rain, wind, thunder...”

“ _In_ the house, I mean. No typewriters, no guns, no shouting or arguing. Nobody yelling for me. I can’t remember the last time I had the house to myself.”

“But you don’t have it to yourself,” Spiro said quietly, “I am here.”

Louisa looked up at him. “You don’t count.”

“No?”

“With you, I’m not being mother, or peace-keeper, or unwilling animal wrangler. I can just be...me...” Her voice trailed off as their eyes met.

Spiro’s hand found her cheek. “And you are perfect,” he whispered.

“Spiro...”

For a moment there was utter stillness in the room. The flames cast dancing lights, caught and amplified the love and desire in Spiro’s eyes. Louisa caught her breath.

“From the first moment I saw you,” Spiro said.

“I know,” Louisa replied, “I know. For me too.” She moved slowly until she was level with him. Her eyes flicked to his mouth.

“Louisa,” he breathed, and she kissed him.

After a moment she pulled away. He smiled at her, cupped her face with his strong hands, and pulled her back in. She moved willingly, his lips firm against hers, her hands around his shoulders, in his hair. The angle grew awkward and she straddled his lap, swallowed his gasp. Now her hands found their way to his chest, where the dressing gown exposed a triangle of dark hair. He shuddered against her as she slipped a hand inside, stroked his chest. His hands were around her waist, holding her tight as his tongue explored her mouth.

A crash of thunder right overhead jolted them apart.

Louisa laughed with sheer pleasure. “Will you stay?”

Spiro tucked a stray curl behind her ear, let his fingers trail down her cheek, neck, across her exposed collarbone. “Yes,” he said simply. “Although, I must get out of this dressing gown or I will never be able to look Larry in the face again.”

Louisa slipped carefully from the sofa and held out her hand to him. “Well then, come with me.”


End file.
